


Hold Still Right Before We Crash /Redux/

by steelneena



Series: Depressing Swanfire Oneshots [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Swanfire - Freeform, True Love, a fix it for one of my own stories, haha - Freeform, redux fic, slightly less torturous pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 18:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10285373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/steelneena
Summary: Wherein Emma gets a call and Neal is in critical condition in the hospital, not dead. aka i like to hurt my favs but not that much





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally a what if/fix-it/redux of my story "Hold Still Right Before We Crash" with a slightly happier outcome. And so, it's one of the less depressing stories in this collection.
> 
> I’ve bumped up the Neal timeline for the purposes of this story. In the original Hold Still, Devin doesn’t get a chance to enter Storybrooke until a month after Neal dies. Since Neal’s timeline is malleable, because I made it up, I can do whatever I want. So I had him be shot the day before Greg showed up in town.

After the fiasco with Greg Mendell, Emma didn't think the day could get any worse. But then, another car came into town, this time without causing an accident. She didn't know about it, of course, until the driver himself walked into the Sheriff's Department where she was finishing up some last minute paperwork. Emma had to at least pretend that things ran semi-normally in the strange little town.

"Hi, are you the Sheriff?" The stranger asked. He was tall, maybe six foot, and had dark skin and eyes.

“I am,” She countered, mildly on the defensive. He was unfamiliar to her, and by now, Emma had practically learned every face in town.

“My name is Devin Thompson, Attorney at Law,” He announced himself, and Emma frowned. Definitely from out of town. And two on the same day… “I’m looking for a woman named Emma Swan,”

Emma's brow furrowed. "Well you're speaking with her. What do you want?”

A strange look came over his face, and there was a little frowning wrinkle just above his nose.

“I see. I have some news for you. I’m here as more than just a lawyer, I’m here as a friend of my client. Best friend actually. He’s just been in a serious domestic altercation and was taken in serious condition to Bellevue Hospital center. I was called in when they finally found his ID. He’d been conscious briefly before going into surgery. They told me that he’d asked me to find ‘Emma Swan’,” As Thompson spoke, his voice remained clinical, as if he was trying desperately to distance himself from the event.

“I used to work in Boston in bailbonds. I never made it to New York, so I’m not really sure...what’s your friend’s name?”

“Neal. Neal Cassidy,”

At his words, Emma sunk bodily into her chair, shocked.

“I take it you weren’t expecting that,” Emma could only nod in response.

“How did you find me?” She asked, her voice low and husky with emotion.

“They told me his exact words were ‘Postcard’, and ‘Emma Swan’. This,” He held up the postcard in question. “Was how I found you. I went to his apartment after the cops reopened it and found this on his desk. Mean anything to you?”

She took the postcard gently from his hands. It was Storybrooke’s clock tower, and on the back, one sharpied word was written.

 

“ **BROKEN** ”

 

“Who was it from?” She questioned, curious and still a bit numb.

“No idea. What you see is all there was. It’s just been a day, and my wife’s been with Neal in the hospital the whole time. She’s sending me updates. So far, he hasn’t woken up yet. They’re still not positive he will. And I, for one, was hoping that you’d fill in the blanks, not create more of them,"

“I think I know just about as much as you,” In truth, Emma was reeling. The postcard was strange, especially in context. No one here could know about Neal. It was impossible. So why would he receive a postcard from Storybrooke, and who on earth would have written ‘BROKEN’ on the back of it? “He’s never mentioned me to you before?”

“Not once. Rebecca, my wife, she might know something. He’s the one who introduced us, so it’s possible that he may have told her. I can ask. Neal’s always been pretty close-lipped about his past, but now, with things as they are…”

Emma shook her head back and forth, trying to clear her thoughts.

“You said… domestic altercation?”

“His fiance shot him,”

“Holy shit,”

“Yeah. Luckily we have her in custody. But she’s not talking. So why would he ask for you?”

Emma shrugged, hedging the question uneasily.

“I-” She paused, took a deep breath and was about to speak but suddenly, Henry burst through the door.

"Hey Mom!” He called, ruddy cheeked, smiling wide and breathing hard. “Guess what happen- who are you?" He cut himself short, rounding on the lawyer. "Hi, I’m Henry. You're not from Storybrooke, are you?" 

Devin, who had remained sitting up until that moment stood alarmingly quickly as he gazed intensely in shock at Henry before breaking into a chuckle. It was devoid of any humour, and Henry only looked, confused, between the two adults.

“Hi Henry,” Devin’s eyes watched him with great interest, inspecting his features carefully. He smiled a warm smile, seemingly having found what he was searching for. “I’m Mr. Thompson. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sorry to steal your Mom from you,”

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I interrupted you. See you later, Mom! Nice to meet you Mr. Thompson!”

After Henry left out the front door, there was an uncomfortable silence between the lawyer and the sheriff.

“Did he know?” Devin asked, cautious.

“No. Neal and I...we weren’t together when I found out. I gave Henry up for adoption after he was born. I only just reconnected with him a year and a half ago. He asked about his Dad but I…I couldn’t...I told him his father was dead. I never expected…” This time the silence was sombre. “Now it could be true and I…”

“I’m not blaming you. Neal’s my friend, but things happen. Sometime we do and say things because we don’t have another way of dealing with them. What will you do?”

“We just had a car crash last night...things are busy here and I…” She looked imploringly at him.

“I’ll keep you up to date?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let me give you my phone number,” As they fumbled with their phones, Emma’s willpower broke. “How...how did you meet him?”

“Work. Neal’s one of our three top accountants at the firm where I work. He did some numbers for one of my cases and we just became great friends. Good man to have your back. That was over five years ago. We’d been friends a while before he introduced me to Rebecca. He was teaching a night class at one of the tech colleges. Art. I...you know how it is. He’s charismatic, kind. Impossible not be friends with. He’s become a part of our family. He’s my daughter’s godfather. Hell, he named her,” Suddenly, Devin looked away. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,”

“What? Why?”

“My daughter’s name is Emma,” He looked down at the briefcase in his hands.

Emma didn’t answer. Everything that had been revealed, everything that had been discussed had left her reeling.

“You’re headed back to New York then?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.  I’ve got a plane to catch,”

“But we still don’t know why he wanted you to find me, or where the postcard came from,” She settled her face in a firm, serious look. “There has to be a reason,”

“He’d lost a lot of blood; he was most likely delirious-”

“No. We both know Neal. It had to mean something. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t...if he never mentioned me before then he wouldn’t have done it,”

“Alright. So what do we do now?”

She locked eyes with him.

“Now, I come with you back to New York. I can’t shake this feeling that somehow, this has something to do with-” She trailed off.

“What?”

“I can’t really tell you. Official police business,” She gave a wry yet sincere smile. “I really would tell you,”

Devin waved her off. “I believe you, and I understand completely. I’m a lawyer, remember?” He gave a determined look. “If he’s in trouble somehow, I’ll do whatever it takes,”

Emma walked him to the door, and pointed down the street. “Granny’s B&B is right over there. Tell her I sent you. I’ll cover the cost of your stay, don’t worry about it. Tomorrow I’ll meet you at the diner. When’s the plane?”

“One,”

“Alright, we’ll leave around noon then. Should be more than enough time,”

As Devin began to walk off, Emma called him back briefly. “Devin… his finace? Why’d she shoot him, do you think?”

“My best guess? Money,” And then he continued on down the road, leaving Emma confused, and a little perturbed.

 

 

* * *

 

The next morning Emma was up bright and early. All her bags were packed and she was more than ready to leave, much to the confusion of her parents and son.

“But why are you going again? And how did this man find you? Why do you need to go? We need you right now Emma!” Her mother’s platitudes fell on deaf ears as she went busily about the apartment.

“Mom, you should really answer Gram’s questions, or you’re going to give me ideas about being an insubordinate child,” Her precocious son trailed her around the apartment as she went. Suddenly, there was a knock. Emma as too preoccupied to answer it, so David (‘ _I’m so long suffering here!’)_  answered the door.

It was Mr. Gold.

"Gold," She began, discouraged by the timing. "We've all had a long night-"

"You remember that favor you owe me, Miss Swan? I'm cashing it in," There was no room for argument in his tone.

Surprised, Emma backpedaled. " It's not a good—"

"You do honor your agreements, don't you?" He asked brusquely. "I need to find someone, so we’re leaving today. Pack your bag,"

"Leaving?" Snow piped up, a small frown forming on her face. “Emma’s already-”

Henry cut her off in curiosity "Where?"

"Wait. Find someone? Who?" Emma’s brow furrowed.

"My son. It has to be today, because every minute I’m here, is a minute closer to me killing Hook. So it’s really best for all concerned if I leave, and you’re going to come with me. Oh, and, um, we have a long history. So know this, and know it to be true. If any harm comes to Belle while I’m gone, I’m killing all of you. I’ll see you at noon," Gold turned to stalk out the door, but Emma spoke again, firmly.

“Well I hope you’re going to New York because that’s where I’m headed. I found out yesterday that...a friend of mine got shot and they need my help with the case. I’m leaving in at noon too. So you can either tag along or wait until later,”

Snow’s jaw dropped at her daughter’s harsh and unfeeling words. “You didn’t tell me that, why didn’t you tell me that???”

Gold snarled. “You’re in luck. New York is the location where I’ve tracked my son. I guess you’ll be pulling overtime, Miss Swan,”

“Fine. Let’s get going,”

 

 

* * *

 

The plane ride was awkward. More accurately, it was uncomfortable. Devin seemed to know Mr. Gold’s type, and understood how the handle him, but Gold wanted nothing to do with the other lawyer in return. He’d been belligerent getting on the plane, unwilling to let go of his scarf, or his cane in order to walk. Emma had smoothed over the altercation, but Devin had looked at her questioningly.The trip was silent. Eventually, Gold seemed to have fallen asleep, and only then did Devin risk a question.

“So what’s the deal there?” He gestured to the sleeping form of the cantankerous man.

“His son has been missing for a long time, but he recently tracked him to New York. He wants me to do my bail bonds schtick. I find people and I’m good at that. He knows it, and I owe him one, so this is me paying him back,”

“I see. Well, you do whatever you have to do,” He turned his head and looked out the window. “Rebecca said there’s no change. We decided we want to put you up in our guest room if that’s okay. I didn’t tell her about your history with Neal, though,”

Emma blanched a little. “I um - thanks”

“Neal’s a member of my family. He comes to Thanksgiving for my wife's side and mine. He spends Christmas in my home, my daughter calls him Uncle Neal. Your son is his son. No matter how you and Neal feel about one another, that makes you family, if you want to be,” Devin shrugged.

“I have a complicated relationship with family, to be perfectly honest. I’ll see what Gold is going to do. I don’t think he’s left Storybrooke in almost 30 years and I’m not sure how he’s going to handle New York,”

“He can stay with us too. I get the feeling he doesn’t like me much, because he’d rather you be focused on his son rather than what’s going on with Neal, but in the interest of fulfilling both those goals, I’d be willing to let him stay too,”

“I don’t know if he’ll take you up on it, but you’re kind to offer,” Emma didn’t smile; the anticipation of spending an extra amount of time with the cantankerous man wasn’t a pleasant one.

The rest of the trip flew by and before Emma knew it the short flight was over and they were disembarking at the airport.

“First things first, Gold, I have to head to the hospital with Devin. It takes precedence, okay? Someone is hurt. I know you’re anxious to find your son, but I have to do this first,”

Gold only scowled before tucking himself into the cab, leaving she and Devin to handle the bags. Despite what she’d said, Emma wanted anything but to go to the hospital. Seeing Neal again, in any condition, terrified her. A small part of her, a small shameful part, was bitter that he hadn’t died. It would have been easier if he were.

So much easier.

Gold stayed in the waiting room without question, leaving Devin to lead a jittery Emma away into the waiting bowels of the hospital.

A beautiful woman with dark, tight coils of hair was waiting in the hallway for them. Rebecca, Devin’s wife Emma figured, before the two embraced. Tears glossed her eyes, and Emma felt like a stranger.

Rebecca turned to address Emma, who shifted uncomfortably.

“You must be Emma Swan?” She asked, suddenly all business. Emma only nodded in response. “Nice to meet you,” She stuck out her hand, and shook Emma’s with a firm grip. Looking between her husband and Emma, Rebecca asked, “So have we discovered why Neal was asking for you?”

Emma bit her lip, stammered.

“Rebecca, hon, let’s talk over here,” Devin drew her to the side, and nodded his head in the direction of the softly lit doorway.

Emma gulped a breath, and entered, standing just within the doorway.

At first, she didn’t see him. She saw blankets, and tubes and medical equipment.

The first thing she noticed was the silver-shot hair at his temples. It was shorter on the sides, shorter all over than she remembered, and less curly.  He, like her, no longer suffered the look of starving thinness, but she could see the definition of well earned muscle in his arms where they lay, dead, atop the covers.

His hands, of all, were the same. Large and calloused, comfortable, like the home she’d never knew. Before she’d even realized that she’d moved, Emma was standing by his bedside. There was a chair pulled diagonally to the side of the bed, no doubt where Rebecca had been before they’d arrived.

Tentatively, Emma sat, reached out her hand-

All the hate in her heart was molded tight into a stone. It was small, but unyielding, and as she took his hand into hers, something in her cracked, and it all came forward, manifest in tears and words.

“How could you? How  _dare_  you. You  _asshole_! You left me. You left me to go to prison. And I was  _alone_. You were all I had and you just couldn’t care less. Wasn’t I good enough? Wasn’t I enough?” Her words, which had started in an almost yell, disintegrated into choked whispers, Emma’s grip on Neal’s hand tightening the whole while. “I  _loved_ you. I wanted to  _hate_  you. You screwed me over. You  _hurt_ me. I want to hate you. I want to hate you. ”I don’t know where you got that postcard, but if it means what I think it means, then I have a whole lot of questions for you, and so help me you will answer them. You have to. You have to…”

She was crying in earnest, head bowed over the side of his bed, death-grip crushing his fingers.

“Please don’t die,” The whisper was barely a shadow on her lips. “Oh god Neal, please don’t die,”

Ten minutes later, eyes red but piercing, Emma exited the room. Rebecca and Devin were loitering by the nurse’s station, waiting. When Devin noticed her, a brief look of concern flashed across his face. 

“I’m done,” She stated, without finesse.

Wisely, neither said a word, simply followed as she stalked back down the hallway towards the waiting room, and towards Gold.

 

* * *

 

 

All through the ride back to the Thompson’s apartment, Gold eyed her like a hawk making Emma all the more furious for it. He’d seen the evidence of her weakness, and she could tell that he was furiously calculating the information into the image of her that he had previously. There wasn’t a lot that could put a crack in Emma’s armour, but Neal had always been her weak spot. Her deep dark secret. Her Achilles’ Heel.

As she was putting her bag in the guest room, she felt him approach behind her, even before he spoke.

“Who is he, to you?”

Emma grit her teeth, and threw the bag more forcefully on the bed than she had intended.

“It’s obvious that he hurt you in some way, but, and trust me on this, dearie, I know from experience, that kind of pain only results from one thing,”

She whirled on him. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Love,” He didn’t spit the word, but neither was it said tenderly. The bitterness resounded in Emma in a way that she hadn’t imagined, kindred to her own. “It’s the worst sort of pain,” He continued after a minute. “Because all the pain in the world doesn’t make the love go away, no matter how desperately you want it to,” Then, he turned and walked away, the muted thumping of his cane in his wake.

Emma sat on the bed, and for the second time that day, she cried.

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner wasn’t as silent as it could have been, because Rebecca had gone next door to retrieve their daughter. Emmy (as she was nicknamed) was an angel with auburn eyes and a little discerning wrinkle over her tiny nose. At five years old, she was perfectly precocious. She was fascinated with Emma (“You’ve got the same name as me!”, “You know Uncle Neal?!” “You’re a Sheriff? Like in the Old West? That’s so cool!”), but more surprisingly was how well Emmy got along with Mr. Gold.

Initially, Emma was hesitant to have the girl interact with the man that she knew as unkind, spiteful, insensitive and often cruel. She’d spent so much time keeping Henry away from the man, that she’d never actually seen him interact with a child.

Inwardly, she was kicking herself. She’d seen enough movies and read enough books to know the trope of ‘mean old man is sweet to kids and mean to adults because they lost a child’. She’d even known about the lost son, but his demeanour and reputation as the Dark One had blotted it out, made it less real to Emma. If it wasn’t real then, it was after that evening of watching him gruffly and somewhat reluctantly dote on the little girl who ended up sitting on his lap while the adults talked about meaningless things late into the night. When Emma finally looked over, she saw that not only had Emmy fallen asleep in Gold’s lap, Gold had fallen asleep too.

Devin went to extract his daughter from Gold and took her to her bedroom. Gold slept on, and Rebecca and Emma were left to themselves.

“Devin hasn’t told me anything, but I think I know anyways,” Rebecca began quietly.

“Know what?” She asked, pretending at indifference.

“Neal and I met at Art school. He was teaching, and I was learning. We went for drinks one night to talk about medieval portraiture and were instant friends. Devin’s probably told you that he met Neal at his work, where he’s an accountant. That’s true. The art teaching was just sort of his side job. He only did it for two years. Anyways, that was a year before either of us met Devin. We got to know each other pretty well, but he never budged on his past. And I never pushed, but it’s kind of hard not to notice when your best friend never goes on more than two dates with a person before ending it, and you had to badger him into going in the first place,” Rebecca sent Emma a pointed look.

“What are you implying,”

“When Devin and I asked for suggestions after we found out that we were having a little girl, Neal automatically suggested Emma. He didn’t even hesitate. We liked it and ran with it,”

“So?”

“I’ve been around drunk Neal. He may never have said your name, but I can read between the lines. I don’t know what happened, but he was still hung up on you,”

“He was engaged,” Emma stated tonelessly.

“Neal knew Tamara less than a year. We pushed him into it, and he jumped,” Regret laced Rebecca’s words as she studied her hands. “If we hadn’t…”

“Hey, you can’t do that to yourself,” Emma reached out and touched the other woman’s arm. “You couldn’t have known. There’s no way you could have known she would do this,”

“I know. But it doesn’t change the fact that it feels like it’s my fault,” The silence lingered Gold’s gentle breathing softening the silence.

“I have a son,” Emma said suddenly. “Henry. He’s 11, almost 12,” The words hung in the air. “He doesn’t know. I didn’t know I was pregnant until after we...weren’t together anymore. I was so  _mad_. I just couldn’t...I never even held him as a baby. I gave him up, and he was adopted by the mayor of the town that I live in now. He was having a rough patch and looked me up, last year, so I moved to town. It’s...complicated,”

“And Henry? Does he know about Neal?”

Emma shook her head.

“He only asked once. I didn’t- I was-,” She paused, and took a breath. “I was particularly vulnerable. I...He looks so much like Neal. It’s why I couldn’t keep… I told Henry that his father wa a firefighter. A brave man who died saving people. I didn’t want him to know the truth,”

Rebecca waited, but didn’t say anything, the unasked question hovering around them.

“When I met Neal, I was a homeless runaway. I’d been in and out of foster homes since I was a baby. I had no one and nothing. He understood. He was like me. He only ever told me that his Dad was messed up and had abandoned him. He had these awful nightmares...I never asked. We lived in my car. This old beat up VW-Beetle. It’s how we met. I stole the car...with him in it. He was napping in the backseat. Turns out, he’d stolen in first. We were thieves. Neal had done this job a while before I met him, some watches from this jewelry store. He’d been sitting on them for the better part of a year when we decided we couldn’t keep living like we were. Things were starting to heat up for us. He was getting nervous. So he decided to fence the watches to get us enough cash to get our feet on the ground. I waited after he left.  He never showed up, but the cops did,”

Rebecca opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped.

“I wanted so badly to hate him. He left me. I went to  _jail_  for him. I  _loved_ him and he just left. Like I was nothing. When I got out, all I had was the car. He left me the damn car, and the keys, mailed from some Asian country. I don’t remember where anymore. He took the money and split,”

“That had to have been hard,” Rebecca replied, but Emma could hear in her voice how she felt.

“Say it. Just say what you’re thinking,”

“You can’t know what happened,” The words rang harsh in Emma’s ears. “I get what it looks like but I know Neal, I know what he’s like and he’d never-”

“Yeah, well I thought I knew him too,”

“I’m just saying that there are two sides to the story, and something tells me that what you think happened isn’t the whole picture,”

“Then why’d he never look for me? If he loved me, or felt bad for what happened, or even cared at all, why wouldn’t he had looked?”

“Well, he knew where you were didn’t he?” So maybe, if he did look for you, a better question would be, if he knew where you were, why didn’t he ever go?”

Unwillingly pensive, Emma stared past the slumbering form of Mr. Gold and out the blackened window watching as rain pelted the glass panes.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning Emma and Gold set out together to search for Gold’s mysterious son. Devin went to work, Emmy to school and Rebecca began another day at the hospital with Neal. The discussion the night before had left Emma was a bad taste in the mouth and and uncomfortable, twisted feeling in her stomach. In short, she was on edge, and more than ready to rip of the head of the first unfortunate soul to look at her sideways. The drive to the apartment complex wasn’t long at all. It was in a decent part of town, not as nice as the Thompson’s but still decent enough for an ordinary person.

“His name’s not here, Miss Swan,” There was a curious quality to Gold’s voice that Emma hadn’t heard before.

“One thing about people who don’t want to be found. They don’t tend to put their names where people can see them. Which number hasn’t got a name next to it?”

“Four-oh-Seven,”

She rang the bell harshly. There was no answer.

“Doesn’t mean he’s not up there. Let’s go,”

Emma jimmied the lock and she and Gold made their way up to the fourth floor.  When they came to the corresponding unit, neither of them said a word.

“Are you sure that this is the place? It could be someone- “

“No. The maps doesn’t lie. This is the place. This is...this is...my son…”

There was yellow tape across the doorway. Printed across it in black caps were the words ‘Police Line: Do Not Cross’. The door was open, and on the carpeted floor, just across the threshold, was a dark, reddish brown stain. 

Gold lurched forward, but Emma put an arm out, stopping him. “We can’t go in. I don’t have jurisdiction here. Hell, I don’t have real jurisdiction anywhere. I”m sheriff of a town that doesn’t exist. If we go in there and get caught I can’t protect us,”

Singlemindedly, he pushed her arm out of the way, determined to enter.

“Gold. Gold!” She called out, but he slipped underneath the tape awkwardly, cane held at an odd angle. He skirted the bloodstain on the floor, and made his way further into the apartment as if looking for anything that could single out the place as belonging to the son he no longer knew, mad eyed and anxious.

Angrily, Emma entered too.

She looked around briefly, instincts from years spent in bail bonds taking over. It wasn’t very homey. A random and eclectic assortment of belonging was scattered around the place, but there were no personal touches. No papers out in the open, no books. No nothing. She turned in a circle, taking it all in, when she noticed the window, or rather, what was hanging on it. Entranced, she moved towards it, as if in a dream. The Dreamcatcher was a pale yellow, faded out with sun and age. It’s clear and blue beads twinkled even in the grey light, and, backlit, it’s soft white feathers glowed. She reached out a trembling hand to touch it, dazed.

She lifted it from the nail where it hung.

“What, what is it?” Gold’s words broke her reverie.

Startled, she let the Dreamcatcher fall from her gentle grasp to the ground.

“Answer me Miss Swan!” His voice rose a mark, pulling her back to the present.

“I-I…” She stammered. “It’s just a Dreamcatcher. Flypaper for nightmares,” She shook her head a little, blinked rapidly. Then-

“Did he have a desk?”

“What?”

“Did he have a desk? Was there a desk back there?” Her tone was escalating now too, and Gold narrowed his eyes.

“There was a desk, yes. I didn’t rifle through it,” He pointed, and she followed his direction immediately, the Dreamcatcher left on the ground. Curious, Gold bent to pick it up. His fingers tingled at the touch, felt the power inside the thing.  Just through into the next room, he observed as Emma tore into the desk, heedless of the mess, of the eventuality of the police returning. Suddenly, the flurry of activity stopped, and Gold knew that she’d found whatever it was she was searching for when Emma slumped motionlessly to the floor, papers held in her hands.

“Just what in Hell is going on here, Miss Swan?” He asked her harshly. Gathering the papers to her, she stood, and stalked past him without so much as a word. “Swan! Swan!”

He had to rush to keep up with her, his cane thumping loudly against the floor as she exited the unit, walked the hall and down the stairs. She kept going onto the sidewalk, thumb out for a taxi. His ankle was throbbing, and he wasn’t quite fast enough to keep up, because she already had the door closed by the time he neared, but by some miracle, he caught her destination. Putting out his own thumb, he too got in a taxi.

“Where to, man?”

“Bellevue Hospital,”

 

* * *

 

 

Rebecca startled back as Emma burst into Neal’s room, nurses hot on her heals. In her arms were a bundle of paper, tan, as if parchment, and as Rebecca was struck with the horrible realization, everything began to happen at once. The drawings were, everywhere. She’d tossed them at his bed as she began to rage, almost incoherently. Mr. Gold, huffing and out of breath, came in a moment later, eyes wide at the scene, the nurses fruitlessly trying to calm Emma down.

“You knew! You knew! How could you? How dare you? It’s not fair, it’s not fair!” The drawings floated down from the ceiling, drifting to land on the bed and the floor. “You knew all along? You’re from there, you’re like me. You-you-you...you coward!”  

The realization must have struck Gold too, because, in the middle of the single, tense moment of nothingness between Emma’s halting breathing, the fluttering sound of papers, and the rhythmic beeping of the machines, he spoke four quiet words.

“Is this my son?”

Nothing breathed.

“Is this my son?”

Wild eyed, and tearstained, Emma’s open, broken face came to rest on the pathetic figure of the man behind her, so staunch and haughty before, but in that moment as broken as she.

“Yes,”

Mr. Gold sagged into the wall, holding himself there for support.

“Baelfire…My Bae...” The wretched sound his voice made when he spoke made Rebecca shudder. “My boy…” He fairly dragged himself over to the bed, collapsed in a heap in the second chair.

All the wind had gone out of Emma’s sails. She stood, still in the place where she had entered. The nurse had bowed out after Emma had stopped screaming. Rebecca looked just beyond where she stood, still as a statue, on the ground she saw a dreamcatcher. The Dreamcatcher. The one that hung in Neal’s apartment. Neal’s Dreamcatcher.

Her eyes flickered back to Emma. She seemed to come back to herself. There was a brief moment where she locked eyes with Rebecca, her expression like a frightened deer.

“Emma-”

She turned and fled.

 

 

* * *

 

She glanced up when Devin sat down next to her. She’d taken refuge in the waiting room, hoping to fit in with the rest of the anxious and mourning families, and it had worked.

“So, now that you’re rational again…”

“Neal’s Gold’s son,”

“I get that’s a bit surprising. But what-”

“It’s complicated. Really complicated. I can’t...I don’t want to talk about it or try and explain anything until-”

“Neal wakes up,”

“Yeah,”

“You can’t even try and-"

“No,”

That was the end of it. Two hours of silence later and all four of them were back at the Thompson’s apartment. Emma retreated to the kitchen with Rebecca, sitting at the kitchen table and holding her cell phone. Eventually, several surreptitious glances from Rebecca later, Emma dialed.

 

_“Mom?!”_

“Hi, Henry,” a sad smile graced her face.

_“How’s it going? Did you find Mr. Gold’s son? What about friend? Is he okay?”_

“He’s still in the hospital. Hasn’t woken up yet, but He’ll be okay,”

_“And Mr. Gold’s son?”_

“I’ll let you know,”

_“I love you!”_

“I love you too, Henry. So much,”

_“What’s wrong?”_

“Nothing Henry, nothing. I’m going to have to stay here a while, though, okay? So you take care of David and Mary-Margret while I’m gone,”

_“I wish I’d have come with you,”_

“It’s better that you aren’t. Really. I miss you too, kiddo, but some of this…”

_“Your friend? The one who got shot?”_

“It’s pretty grisly, kiddo,”

_“I’m sure he’ll be okay, Mom. Don’t worry about us here. You just focus on the case,”_

“Thanks Henry. I will. Be good,”

_“I will. Love you!”_

“Love you,”

 

She hung up with a deliberate sigh.

“What am I going to tell him?” She asked, not particularly looking for an answer. Rebecca didn’t give her one either, simply set down a cup of hot chocolate in front of her. Emma looked into it to see the steaming top covered with already melted whipped cream and sprinkled with-

“Neal likes his with cinnamon,” She said, hovering at her shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind.

“He learned that from me,” Emma stated, wrapping her hands around the hot mug. “Our first date. He said he wanted to buy me a drink. I thought that he meant a bar. So we meet up and there he is with two hot chocolates to go and he took me to the carnival. After hours. We broke in and sat on the chairs of the swing carousel. He lit it up and everything. It was absolutely…” The word to complete the sentence tasted like poison on Emma’s tongue. “Magical,”

“He’s totally hopeless,” Rebecca laughed. “Devin always made fun of him for watching chick flicks and stuff with me. And old movies. We watch  _Casablanca_  once a year and Devin takes Emmy to the movie theatre because he can’t stand it,”

Despite herself, Emma laughed too. “He loved  _On the Waterfront_. It was his favourite movie, when we met. I’d never even heard of it. Drove me nuts quoting Kerouac all the time too,”

“Whatever he did, if what you think happened is true...you don’t...you don’t really hate him?”

In a small voice, smaller than she’d felt in years, the smallest it had been since her time in prison, when that hateful little voice inside of her whispered  _you’re not enough, you’ll never be enough_  over and over again, Emma answered.

“I never stopped loving him. Not once. If I couldn’t have him, then I didn’t want love at all,”

* * *

 

 

When Neal woke up, the first face he saw was Rebecca’s. His voice came out hoarse, and he couldn’t barely tell what he’d even said.

“Wha-at h’ppnd?”

“Don’t talk. I’ll get the nurse, okay baby?”

He smiled a little at Rebecca’s statement.

The nurse came back without Rebecca, and promptly informed him that she was calling someone. Devin, he figured. He dozed between prodding and prompts to do things, half in and half out of consciousness. When the Doctor came in, everything was explained to him, and about halfway through, he started to actually remember the things he was being told, which was both traumatic and a relief. So of course, Neal tried to laugh, which only made things hurt more.  Which was also so ironic that he had to laugh again. That time, he stopped.

Shot by his own fiancee. He just had the best of luck.

Rebecca came back in and he smiled wryly at her. He’d drunk some water with help from the nurse, and because he was stubborn, decided to speak.

“Just my luck,” He said, matched with the biggest grin he could manage.

Rebecca laughed and cried at the same time. “We’re just glad you’re still here, baby. Devin’s left work. He’s picking up Emmy and-”

Neal frowned confused. “And?”

“Do you remember, after they got you to the hospital, and you woke up briefly. Do you remember what you said?” She seemed nervous, worrying at her lip, her warm amber eyes concerned. Troubled, he wracked his brain.

Briefly, he remembered the hospital lights around him, blinding bright. The nurses and other staff edged his vision like a wreath and…

He blanched.

“Neal?”

“The postcard…I thought it was her, I thought I saw-” He cut off abruptly. “You didn’t,”

“Baby we thought you were dying-”

“You… she’s here? She...she came?”

“Devin went to Maine, to this...Storybrooke. Turns out she’s the sheriff there. Look, Neal, she’s us some things and I want you to-”

“Whatever she said probably isn’t wrong,” He turned his head away to look at the blinding light of the window.

“Neal…”He felt her hand on his arm. “I know you wouldn’t have just left her high and dry, stuck with your prison sentence,”

“You weren’t supposed to know about any of that anyways,”

“You don’t have to tell me that. We know you’ve turned your life around. We know what kind of person you are. Whatever really happened, you and she need to talk. She stuck around, and it’s...there have been ups and downs, okay? But you need to set this right. She cared enough to stick around. That speaks for itself,”

Devin walked in at that moment, and looked between Neal and Rebecca.

“I told him about Emma,”

“I’ll send her in,” Devin looked to Neal. “I’ll come in later and we can talk,”

“Kay, man,”

As Devin walked out, Rebecca spoke again. “You want me to stay?”

“No, I’ve got this. You go on, Beck,” She got up and left, and Neal found himself looking away towards the window. Soft footsteps halted just beyond the door.

“I’m sorry they bothered you,” He said, not looking away from the window.  _Coward_ , he thought. There was an intake of breath, but she didn’t speak. Gathering everything he had in him, Neal turned to look at Emma. She was pale, and looked breathless, frightened. His heart sank, and lifted all at once. Neal was about to speak again, but Emma beat him to it.

“You’ve gone silver at the temples,”

Neal was gobsmacked. A million times he’d imagined speaking to her, a million times, he’d imagined what she’d do and say. Never, ever, had he expected that.

“Your hands are the same, though,” She looked away, down at the floor. He held his breath. “How could you leave me like that?” It was quiet, almost more spoken to herself than to him. “You know I had nothing, no one, but you. And you just let me take the fall? And the bug? What was that supposed to be? Consolation prize? Jesus, Neal,”

“Do you want to know what happened? If you want to chew me out a leave, I get it, but otherwise I don’t know why the hell you even came,” His words came out more bitter than he’d intended.

“Fine. You want to talk. Talk. Explain to me how you just thought to yourself, sure, I’ll just take the watches and skip town, oh wait, and I’ll call the cops first, yeah that sounds like a good goddamned idea. And while you’re at it you can explain to me, Mr. Son-of-Rumpelstiltskin, why you never told me about my family. You knew! You had to have known! That postcard…that-that-that postcard. Who in town knows? Who knows? Has someone been keeping you informed? Have you known this whole time? Why did you never-”

“I didn’t know!” He interrupted. “I went to fence the watches but I was being followed. I ran for it, and he tackled me. Told me that he had something to show me. There was a box on the back of his motorcycle, with this typewriter inside, and he...he knew my name. My history.  _No one_  knew, Emma. No one. I freaked. So he blackmailed me. He told me that you were a princess from our realm and that if I wanted you to find your family, I had to get out of the way. He told me he was your friend...August, something or another. I don’t remember anymore. Anyways I-”

“August? August! You listened to Pinocchio? Are you serious?”

“Pinoc- Jesus Emma, I’m three hundred years removed from any of this shit! I didn’t even know Snow White and Prince Charming were anything  _other than_ fairy tales! How could I have known?”

“Wait, three hundred years? What?”

“After I escaped my father, I ended up in England. In the 1800’s. Then I got taken to Neverland. I was stuck there for three hundred years. Neverland time runs concurrent to time back in the realm, but time here is different. Faster, I guess. Your great-great grandparents parents hadn’t even been born yet when I left our realm,”

“The Enchanted Forest. We call it the Enchanted Forest,”

“Sure, right, whatever. Anyways, he told me if I wanted you to find your family, I had to leave because my father was here too. I...I just wanted you to have your best chance, Emma,”

Abruptly, Emma’s head shot up in shock, locking eyes with him, but she said nothing.

“I gave him the car, the keys and the money, and in return he said that he’d make sure you made it home to them. And that when it was all over, he’d let me know. That was the post card. I haven’t heard from him before or since then. I never called the cops. I did...I couldn’t help but look, afterword. Even then I knew...I should have...I found out where you’d ended up… I couldn’t...I didn’t want to know anymore, so I quit looking,”

“I never got any money,” Emma replied blandly, emotionless.

“Well he was supposed to give it to you,”

“And you just trusted him - the whole Pinocchio thing aside - you just trusted him?” One brow arched questioningly.

“He was going to get you to your family! He knew who I was! If he wasn’t telling the truth, how could he have known that?”

“Well it doesn’t matter anymore, I guess. What’s done is done,” She looked away. “August never helped me, but I did find my family, and I did break the curse. You may have wanted to give me my best chance, and I understand that,” She gone from emotionless to on the brink of tears. “I really, really do. But I spent-” Her voice broke into a sob. “-years trying to understand,  _years_  wondering why I wasn’t enough. Why I wasn’t enough for you. I don’t...your intentions don’t matter. I... _do you have_ any _idea how much it hurt?_  How much you hurt me? You broke my heart, Neal! You didn’t give me a say, didn’t confide in me. Were you that much of a coward that you left, just like that? Wasn’t I worth more to you? Didn’t I matter?”

“You were the only thing that mattered!” He yelled, then, caught himself, and quieted. “Don’t you see, Emma.  _I_  wasn’t good enough for  _you_. I was a thief, a liar, this-this nobody, utterly displaced from anything and everything I’d ever known. Unwanted and unloved by everyone, and those few who cared were long, long gone. A peasant boy and a princess? Where I come from, I’d’ve been hanged for even thinking it. You were more than I could ever have hoped for, ever had dreamed! I wasn’t going to...I didn’t want to ruin you. My father, the Dark One… How could I have ever-”

“I would have wanted you anyways!” It was Emma’s turn to yell. “All I wanted was you! I never knew my family my whole life, they were a-a dream! You were real. I had you. And it was enough,”

“And if I’d have tried to tell you the truth? Would you have believed me? Honestly?”

“You’d have found a way,” She looked anywhere but at him.

“What?” He asked. “What is it? There’s something else, isn’t there,”

She spoke, but it was quiet, muffled.

“Emma-”

“I was pregnant!” She finally sat in the chair. “I was pregnant. I didn’t know until after I was already in jail. I was alone and all I wanted was for you to come back, for it to all have been one big misunderstanding. And then the car and the keys came and I knew…I gave him up. I never held him or looked at him. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t bear it if I saw you there,” She paused, listless. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you. I reconnected with him about a year ago. He’d been adopted...The Mayor of Storybrooke. The Evil Queen. My Step-Grandmother. Weird, I know, right? He asked about you, once. I told him you were dead. That you were a firefighter; that you saved people. I was- I was trying to protect myself, protect him. If he had to have me for a mother, then I didn’t want to tell him the truth about you,”

“What’s his name?” Neal’s throat was dry, and his eyes glossed.

“Henry. She called him Henry. He’s eleven. Almost 12,”

“If I had known-”

“You should have stayed anyways,” She responded sharply.

“You’re right. You’re right. But it’s true. I would have stayed,” He threw his head back against the pillows. A son. I have a kid,” He smiled, sadly. “Henry,”

“I’m going to call him. I’m going to tell him. I wasn’t sure if I would, or not,”

“I wasn’t sure if you would either,”

“I’ll bring him here. He should meet you,”

“Thank you. Thank you,” He didn’t ask if he was forgiven, because he knew he wasn’t, and she didn’t tell him he was, because she hadn’t. But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

“I can’t believe you came,” He said eventually.

“I wish you were dead,” Emma reply cut him to the bone. “It’s awful but it’s true. Everything would be easier if you were. Because then it wouldn’t hurt so much to admit that I never stopped loving you,”

He swallowed, shameful, appreciative. “I still love you, too. But I’ll never ask anything of you, Emma. I know I don’t have the right,”

“You might want to hold onto that thought, because you aren’t going to like what I say next. Your father’s here. He’s waiting to see you. I made him a deal, back before I understood what that meant. I owe him. I have to get you to talk to him, and then I’ve fulfilled it,”

“What did you deal for?” There was a edge of steel to Neal’s tone.

“A woman’s child. She decided she wanted to keep it, not give it away. I bargained to end her contract,” Emma folded her hands in her lap, before looking him square in the face. “It broke him to see you like this. He’s not evil. He’s dark, manipulative, but I can see that he’s trying. He’s got...someone who makes him better. Anyways, I don’t care if you forgive him, but you’ve got to talk to him,”

“Of course Emma. But not for him. For you. For you and that woman and her child,” Impulsively, instinctively, he reached out a hand for her, but she drew back, as if on reflex. “Sorry,”

“I’m going to go call Henry now,” She stood, and walked to the door, but before leaving she turned. “I didn’t tell him. About us. About Henry. But he knows that I know you. He’s your Dad. and he’ll find out soon enough. If you don’t tell him, he’ll figure it out.

“I know,”

 

 

* * *

 

Gold looked up as Emma walked over to him. “I told him you’re here. He only agreed to talk because of the deal. I wouldn’t anticipate a lot if I were you,”

He got up and hobbled tentatively to his estranged son’s room, and Emma took of residence in his seat, Rebecca and Devin next to her. Before them Emmy sat playing at a child’s activity table.  _Thank god for the foresight of hospital designers._

“How did it go?” Devin asked.

“It could have been worse. A lot worse. All things considered...There was yelling. On both sides. I’m sure you heard,”

Devin smirked and Rebecca elbowed him.

“How was Gold?”

“Quiet. Contemplative. Curious,” Devin spoke again.

“Great,” She smiled wryly. “I’m going to go call Henry,”

“You’re going to tell him then?”

“I told Neal. Henry should be allowed to decide for himself if he wants to know his Dad. If I didn’t let him, I’d be a hypocrite, and everything I just yelled at Neal for would mean nothing,”

She decided, in the end, to go outside. The fresh air was soothing and calmed her frayed nerves.

 

_“Hi Mom!”_

“Hi Henry,” Emma just couldn’t project happiness in her tone.

_“Mom, what’s wrong?”_

“You can always tell, can’t you kiddo?”

_“Is your friend okay? Is it something to do with Mr. Gold’s son?”_

“Henry, I have…” She sighed and started over. “Henry, do you remember what I told you about your Dad?"

 _"Yeah. You said he was a fireman. That he died. Why?"_ Not yet suspicious, his query only held curiosity.

"I lied, Henry. I lied, and I shouldn't have. And now, I know that I'll regret it forever. The man who was shot, Henry, my ‘friend’, the man I came here to see...He’s your father,"

There was utter silence over the phone.

“It’s a long and complicated story, Henry, but it’s even more complicated than I knew. He’s not just your father. Turns out, he’s Gold’s son too.I didn't know. I didn't know until yesterday. I just thought he was Neal Cassidy," She hung her head, though her son wouldn’t see it over the phone.

 _"Why didn't you tell me the truth?"_ Henry asked.

Emma sighed, picking her words carefully.

"Because I never thought I would see him again. I never wanted to,"

_"Why not?"_

"He was a thief, Henry. A liar, a bad guy, and he... he broke my heart," She paused, and Henry almost spoke but Emma continued. "That's what I knew. It's what I believed. I wanted to spare you...I wanted to spare me. It was a part of my life I wanted to forget. But I only knew part of it, Henry. I didn't know everything. He may have been a thief, and a liar, but so was I. He woke up today, Henry. We talked, and we’ve...well we haven’t made up, but we understand one another. I told him about you. If you want, we can get you out here to meet him. It’s your choice, and I took that away from you before. I won’t do it again, Henry. I promise," The conviction in her voice warred with her rising emotions. "He’s good man. And he would have been a great father. If there’s one thing I know for certain. He already loves you more than anything else in the world. More than anything,”

_“I want to meet him,”_

“Okay, Henry, you’ll meet him. I promise, you’ll meet him,”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry arrives in Manhattan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally found the inspiration to sit down and finish this, mostly the result of the final, joyous announcement that OUAT is finally ending. It's been amazing for my muse, as Swanfire now feels free to do whatever they want now. It's great. 
> 
> I honestly don't remember what Regina was up to at this point in the narrative and I don't really care. I needed someone who knew magic. 
> 
> Unbetaed

Emma met Henry at the airport alone the very next day. There had been enough of Rumpelstiltskin's potion for  Regina to use on herself to take him to the airport, where they had arranged for him to travel by himself, reasoning that it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done similar before. 

“Hey Kid,” Emma greeted, but Henry only shrugged. “I know that you are upset that I lied, and I’m sorry, I really am. I shouldn’t have done it and I know that now,” 

“Thank you,” was all he replied. 

“We’re heading straight to the hospital, okay? Mr. Thompson is there with his family and after you’ve had some time with Ne-your Dad, we’re going to go back to their place,”

“Is Mr. Gold going to be there too?” There was a curious tonality to her son’s words, and Emma realized he was considering the fact that he was suddenly in possession of a second Grandfather. 

“Yes, though Ne-your Dad refused to see him again. The hospital staff won’t let him in again right now anyways and they barely were willing to allow me back either. There was a lot of….shouting on all our parts.”

The taxi let them off at the hospital after a car ride spent mostly in silence, not uncomfortable but contemplative.

“Do you think Dad will like me?” Henry asked as they walked through the halls. 

“Oh, Henry, he already loves you.” She wanted to say more, to add reassurances, but she couldn’t. In her head they all sounded farcical. 

When they made it to the nurses station, Devin and his family were waiting. Gold wasn’t anywhere to be see. 

“Henry, you remember Mr. Thompson. This is his wife, Mrs. Thompson and their daughter....Emmy,” 

Henry said his hellos uncharacteristically quietly. 

“Now is a good time for you to go in. We’ll talk later,” Rebecca said. 

“Do you want me to be with you?” Emma asked Henry, but he nodded in the negative and she felt her heart waver at the rejection. 

“It’s room 216,” Rebecca told him and he headed off without any hesitation. 

The hospital room door looked daunting but Henry mustered his courage and opened it, stepping in and closing it quietly behind him. There was a slight hall, behind which the room inset and the bed was positioned for some level of initial privacy. 

Warm brown eyes met his own and only through subconscious action did Henry’s feet carry him the rest of the way towards the bed. A soft smile broke across the not so unfamiliar face. 

“Henry,” His father’s voice was as warm as his smiling eyes and Henry felt the hot sting that preceded the onset of tears, but he pushed them back. 

“So you’re my Dad, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry it took so long for us to meet.” 

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.” 

His Dad’s smile faltered a bit, turning melancholy, but it didn’t go away. “Well that’s kind of you to say, Henry,” He caught the unspoken  _ but that’s no excuse,  _ but he didn’t say anything. “Why don’t you sit? I would but the nurse won’t let me yet. She’s a regular tyrant.”

Henry smiled despite himself, and sat. 

“So, you’re what, eleven, right?” 

“Yep”

“I’m sorry Henry, for everything,” 

“Why’d you leave Mom?” he asked, and his Dad paled but looked thoughtful all the same. 

“There is no exucing what I did, henry, no matter the situation. Do you uinderstand that? I made a choice that wasn’t mine to make. I took that choice away from your Mom and that was wrong of me, no matter my inteiontions,” 

“But they were good, weren’t they? Your intentions?” 

“That’s besides the point. Your Mom has every right to be upset with me,” Neal’s words, though harsh, were spoken gently. 

“I understand,” Henry finally replied. 

“Yes, Henry, my intentions were good.” 

‘Even though you sent her to jail,” 

“To be fair, I never intended for that to happen, but it did. And because I didn’t go back for her right away, I allowed that to happen to her. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you both,” 

There was a brief silence, while Henry mulled over Neal’s words. 

“You were just trying to give her her best chance, weren’t you?” 

“Your Mom was an adult. It was her choice to make, not mine, but yeah, i thought I’d be helping her and I’m sorry for how wrong I was,” 

“Mom might be mad at you, but I’m not. That’s between you guys, not me” 

Neal’s smile was sad again. “That’s very big of you, henry, thank you,” 

“Did you name Mr. Thompson’s daughter?” Henry asked out of the blue and Neal couldn’t help but laugh. And Henry knew everything was going to be okay. 

* * *

An hour and a half later, filled with talk and ( for Henry at least) a lifetime’s worth of catching up, a nurse came in and announced that she needed to “monopolize your Dad’s time for a bit”, much to Henry’s chagrin. 

“Go get some lunch, Kid, I’ll see you later. I promise,” 

Henry, emboldened by hearing the familiar term of endearment fall from his father’s lips, hugged him quick before calling out over his shoulder as he left the room “Love you Dad! Bye!” missing the look on Neal’s face completely. 

When he reached the place where Emma and the Thompsons were waiting (still notably absent was Rumplestiltskin), Emma stood automatically. 

“The nurse kicked me out but Dad said I could come back later. He told me we should have some lunch while the Doctors do their thing,” 

Devin, it seemed, agreed, but Emma felt the fear welling in her throat, desperate to know what Henry and Neal spoke of in her absence, despite the obvious indicators that Henry wasn’t yet willing to share. 

They went back to the Thompson’s place, Emmy and Henry happily conversing in the far back of the vehicle, Emmy telling stories about “Uncle Neal” which made Emma’s heart pound. Rebecca, who had sat passenger with her while Devin drove, reached a comforting hand over her arm where it jittered up and down on her leg and gave her a pointed look, her intentions clear:  _ we’ll talk later _ . 

The moment they were inside, Rebecca dragged her into the kitchen and sat her down at the counter. 

“I can help,” Amma protested, But Rebecca waver her off. 

“Davin’s in his office and the kids are occupied in Emmy’s room. I’ll work on lunch; you, talk. Just get it out of your system.” 

Emma harrumphed, but spoke anyways.  “I know I don’t have to worry about him with Henry, but just thinking about what they must have all talked about, knowing how upset Henry was with me that I lied about Neal...I’m nervous. I trust him with Henry, but still…” 

“I understand. He’s your son, you’re protective and Neal hurt you. I’m sure I’d react the same way in your situation. I think you ought to talk to him. He’ll understand too, you know.” 

Emma nodded, knowing that she was likely right. 

“Let me tell you a story, Emma,” Rebecca said, suddenly. “And maybe you’ll feel more at ease,” 

“That’s just it,”Emma cut her off. “I know I can be at ease, despite everything. I remember him, I remember our time together, moment for moment, far better than anything else. I’ve analyzed each moment, time and again, when I was trying to comprehend why he left and that was the worst part. I could never figure it out. He  _ loved _ me. I always thought, maybe I was wrong, maybe I was just willfully naive, and I knew it wasn’t true, but I had to believe it, because there wasn’t another answer until now. 

But I know, from the moment I told him about Henry that they would be fine because I never forgot what he told me about him, and I know he would never do to his son what was done to him, not intentionally at least. So I know, I do, really, that I have nothing to worry about, but I can’t help it all the same.” 

“Maybe that’s not what’s worrying you,” Rebecca paused, thinking. “Maybe it’s Henry you need to talk to,” 

Emma knew she was right the moment she suggested it. She’d been so caught up in the anguish she was feeling that she didn’t realize the true source of her nervousness. "That's what I needed to hear. Thanks,” 

“Sometimes you just need to talk things through with someone before you can know what to do,” 

A rap on the door sent Rebecca away and Emma didn’t wait to see who it was; she could hear that it was Gold and made her way to Emmy’s room where she and Henry had absconded with a boardgame. 

“Henry, can I talk to you?” She asked, knocking on the door frame. 

“Sure, we just finished out game anyways,” 

Emmy left to go to the kitchen and Henry stayed seated on the floor, waiting patiently. Emma sat down next to him. 

“You and I have beent hrough a lot lately, and I want you to know that you can talk and I will listen, no matter what, you know that right?” 

Much to her surprise, he smiled. “You and Dad are a lot alike,” 

Emma let the comment slide. 

“I know that you know I’m upset at your Dad but whatever you feel for him is for you. Don’t let my feelings interfere with that, okay? He’s your Dad and I kept him from you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” 

“Do you want to know what we talked about?” Henry asked, cautiously. 

“Yeah, I won’t lie, Kid. I do wonder. But whether or not you tell me is up to you. I won’t make you. That was between you and your Dad and I won’t take that away too,”

“I know you were trying to protect me, Mom. It’s okay. Dad told me I shouldn’t be mad at you anymore and he was right. You were just scared,” Henry shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

It amazed her constantly how insightful her son was and she pulled him into her side and petted his hair. 

“You remind me of him, you kno. You have his eyes and his optimism,” She murmured. “I think maybe that’s why I lied too. I don’t want you to think that just because Neal and i are a certain way, you will be too,” 

“I know that Mom. Thanks for telling me, though.” 

They sat like that, quietly together for some time before henry spoke again. “What’s going to happen after Dad gets out of the hospital?” 

“I don’t know, Henry. I don’t know.” 

“I’ll get to see him, right? No matter what?” 

“We’ll find a way, kid. I promise.” 

“Do you think Dad will talk to...Grandpa Gold again?”

“Only your Dad can answer that one,” She said, just as Rebecca called them in for lunch. 

Emma pulled Rumplestiltskin aside before they entered the kitchen. 

“Are there going to be any problems here?” She asked, voice unyielding. 

“No. You’re the mother of my Grandson. There will be no trouble.” His face was unreadable, but Emma didn’t detect any deceit and that was going to have to be enough. 

* * *

After an awkward lunch, they all piled into the vehicle again and headed back to the hospital. This time, they all went into the room at once, Emmy, with a barely constrained should of exuberance, landed on the bed.

“Uncle Neal!” She threw her arms around him; Rebecca like she was about to haul her back, but Devin squeezed her arm and she relaxed. 

“Hey squirt! How’ve you been?” 

“Good! Henry plays Candyland better than you. He makes me work for my wins!” 

Neal chuckled, indulging her. “I bet he does.” Neal replied, his eyes on Henry, and not the adoring little girl who had finally ceased bouncing when Devin put a hand on her shoulder. 

Emma watched from behind, noted Rumpelstiltskin's discomforted presence at the back of the room. Devin and Rebecca seated themselves on a couch while Henry took up the chair beside the bed. Emma sat herself down across from the bed, uncomfortable only in that she was facing Neal head on. Eventually, Gold sat too, in the chair farthest from, on Emma’s right, physically distancing himself, though he watched intently. 

“ - Janine baked you cookies but the office already ate half, so she promised you another batch when you’re back,” 

“Tell her that I appreciate it. I bed Andrew is overjoyed that he got stuck with all of my open accounts,” 

Emma could feel herself staring at him, the thoughts in her head familiar and racing - what life had he lived without her? Who were his friends? His colleagues? Did anyone know him like she once had...still did? Did he like the same things, have the same hobbies and interests? Was he the same man, the way she thought… hoped? 

The reason they were there in the first place suddenly was flung to the forefront. 

Tamara. His ex-fiancee. 

The thought soured and an irrational pang of jealousy stabbed Emma deeply. As much as she tried to push it away, it only came back stronger. 

They were engaged. Even though Rebecca told her that they’d pushed him, that their relationship was rushed, almost forced, she had to have  _ known  _ him like Emma had. Held him close and soothes his nightmares. Watched his hands as he smudged charcoal into recognizable shapes. Delighted in the timbre of his baritone as he read excerpts from his favourite novels. For Tamara to have known him and  _ not _ have known  _ those things _ , those elements of Neal that Emma had once considered the sacred contents of her own heart, was simply unthinkable. 

Even considering that Neal and Tamara had shared those things made Emma furious, which only made her more upset in general. Because jealousy implied more about how she felt that she was willing to admit. About how many residual feelings roiled inside her. And no matter how hard she stared at him, Emma knew that she could neither cast the emotions out in the attempt, nor find the answers she sought by doing so. Gold’s words haunted her. He was right, and she hated it. Right that the pain meant that more: that feelings remained. That there was still  _ love  _ in her heart for him. 

Devin and Rebecca spoke with Neal the most, both kids occasionally interjecting, but neither she nor Gold spoke a word, silent intruders on an otherwise pleasant afternoon. Gold’s presence almost melted away; like Emma he spend his time watching Neal intenly, soaking up what little of his son’s presence he was permitted. 

And while Neal obviously ignored the corner of the room his father had sequestered himself in, once in a while he would glance at her, his gaze heavy with intent. Her soul remembered that feeling all too well. 

Soon, talk of work and friends well wishes drifted off and Devin and Rebecca were standing in response to Emmy’s vocal pronouncement that she was hungry. Emma stood to join them (Gold made no move to depart) when Neal spoke. 

“Emma, wait. Can we talk for a minute?” 

“Sure,” She uttered, non-committal but out of the corner of her eye she saw Gold reluctantly stand and follow the others from the room. Hint taken, apparently. 

She moved to the chair which Henry had so recently vacated, holding herself upright and aloof, back uncomfortably straight. She changed looking at him and found that same soft look she so vehemently wished she could have learned immunity to. 

“You’re wearing the keychain I got you,” 

It wasn’t at all what she had expected him to say; unprepared, she floundered in her response. 

“You still have my dreamcatcher,” The words fell accusatory, though she wasn’t quite sure why. She tensed, waiting. 

Neal sighed and let his body fall heavily back into the pillows. His eyes closed a moment as if in resignation. 

“I’m so tired of this Emma. I’m so tired of it all.” 

When he didn’t explain, she shifted uneasily.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” The words were a poison. His eyes opened, morose. 

“I’m sick of people not saying what they mean, meaning what they say. Let’s just...have it all out. No emotions, no interruptions. You obviously have questions and I have the answers. Let’s just put it all out there. It’s messy and uncomfortable, but neither of us are ever going to get anywhere if we keep it all in. And we have more that ourselves to think about now. I’ve known Henry for less than forty-eight hours and I love him with my whole heart. And I don’t want our shit to upend his life anymore than it already has. So let’s act like the adults we are and talk.” 

Emma was paralysed by his words, fixed in position by his weighted stare. It was strange to note the rise and fall of his chest, except that it wasn’t rising and falling; he was holding his breath, waiting for her response, for a tirade of retribution, a slew of accusations and verbal daggers. She wanted to fulfill that expectation, but it wouldn’t come. He hurt her, but the love she felt, however unwanted it was, overpowered the hurt. The rationality of his words were difficult to argue with as well. So Emma breathed, and it felt like the first breath of air she’d taken in years, fresh and crisp and  _ familiar _ . 

Breathing hurt, but she knew that was life. 

“Okay. Let’s talk.” 

“You have questions. I’ll answer anything you put to me.” 

“Tamara. Did you love her?” It was impossible to gauge his response, his features blank. 

“I wanted to.” 

“Why did you keep my Dreamcatcher?” 

“I couldn’t let all of you go.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’ve spent every day that’s gone by regretting leaving you.”  A flicker of emotion split across his features like a lightning crack and Emma wanted to crumble, but she shored herself up, hands curling into fists. 

“You told me yesterday that you still loved me,” 

“I do.” 

“And I told you that I still love you too, and that’s true.” 

“You still have the keychain I got you.” He gestured a little to it and, self conscious, Emma put her hand up to the pendant, fingertips gently brushing the swan figure. 

“I used to think it was a reminder never to trust anyone again.” She admitted. 

“Used to?” 

“Maybe it was punishment. Punishment against myself. I don’t know anymore.”

“A lot of days I could have said the same about the Dreamcatcher.” 

On Emma’s exhale, she gave in, body shifting from her stiff position and falling into the gentle slope of the chair. “I’m not ready for this, Neal. I’m glad we’ve got it on the table, like you said. It was the smart idea. I...I don’t blame you anymore, but I’m not ready to...start over.” 

The blanket’s shifted against the mattress and Emma started, looking up to see that Neal was sitting higher than before in effort to look directly at her. 

“Hey, I just got shot by my fiance and found out I have a kid. I’m not ready either. It’s okay not to be ready. We might never be ready. But at least we won’t be wondering.” 

“Lay back before you hurt yourself, Cassidy,” The fond tone in Emma’s voice didn’t quite manage to go unnoticed, but Neal did as she asked. 

He shifted again, obviously considering something. “So, Henry. Can we talk about him too?”

“I think we should,” she replied.

“I want to be there for him. In whatever capacity you’ll have me. I won’t let another day of his life go by without a father if that’s what he wants. I have to do right by him.” The  _ and by you _ went unspoken, but Emma still heard it, clear as a bell in his rough baritone. “I’m told I should ‘convalesce’ before returning to work. Maybe I should head out to Storybrooke with you for a bit.”

“What about your Dad? What about Tamara?” 

“I can handle my Dad. Tamara...Devin will call if I’m needed.” He rubbed his forehead and Emma narrowed her eyes. 

“Why’d she shoot you anyways?” She asked, as sudden confusion burst across her features. 

Light dawned in his eyes and when Neal looked up at her, it was with alarm. “What? What is it?”

“Do you know a guy named Greg Mendell?” 

* * *

With David’s obliging though curious assistance Greg Mendel was arrested and Emma met them at the town line to take over official custody until they crossed state lines into New York. Devin, when Neal finally explained (in hedged terms, considering the more than strange context of their sleepy little town) the circumstances of the shooting. Tamara entered his apartment while he was gone, found the postcard and called up her real boyfriend, Greg Mendel, and was speaking to him, intimately, when Neal entered the apartment. Her only recourse was to shoot him. (Un)fortunately for everyone involved, Neal conveniently managed to forget the exact details of their plan, other than that it involved his ‘filthy rich father’. Devin bought it and so would the court, since it wasn’t exactly a lie, but they wouldn’t be around to hear it. 

Three days after his discharge from the hospital, Neal was packing for the return trip to Storybrooke. 

Henry sat on the counter, feet knocking back and forth against the cupboards serenely, looking out the window past where the feathers of the Dreamcatcher fluttered in the gentle breeze. 

“Dad?” He asked after several moments. 

“Yeah Kid?” Another folded shirt landed on a pile in his suitcase. 

“I’m really glad you’re coming back with us. I know you have a life here and people who love you, but I’d really miss you if you weren’t coming with us,”

Neal paused, looking up at his son. The light streamed in through the window, catching his hair and turning the light brown a lovely gold. “Henry, wild horses couldn’t drag me away from you.” In three steps he was by Henry’s side, large hands gripping his son’s thin shoulders gently. “I wasn’t there for you and your Mom when you needed me most, but I can be here now. And that can never make up for what you lost, but I promise, I’ll do my best now that you have me.” 

Henry put his arms around Neal’s neck and hid his face in his shoulder. “I’m so glad you didn’t die.” He practically whispered. Neal returned the embrace. 

“I’ll never leave you, Henry. Not if I can help it. You mean everything to me. Everything.” 

The boy pulled away. 

“I know,” he said, very seriously, his jaw so set in determination that Neal felt like crying. Instead, he smiled a crooked, half smile. 

“You want to help me pack?” 

“Yeah!” Henry’s eyes lit up. “What can I do?” 

“Well,” Neal pretended to think. “For starters, you can bring that Dreamcatcher on over. We’ll wrap it in one of my scarves. It’s very special.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, for one, your Mom gave it to me. She told me it was flypaper for nightmares. I used to have them a lot and your Mom’s Dreamcatcher always helped me sleep. I couldn’t possibly leave without it.”

The smile that spread like the sun across Henry’s recently solemn features sent a bittersweet pang through Neal’s heart. “I’ll be sure it’s wrapped really well, Dad.” 

They went about their work in companionable silence, smiling at each other. The sunlight brightened the mood and Henry’s tangible joy was infectious. It had been so long since Neal had felt complete, fulfilled as a person. Fatherhood, it seemed, became him. 

“Dad?” 

The lilting of the implied question mark on the end of the word as it left Henry’s mouth reminded Neal that eleven year olds asked  _ a lot  _ of questions, many of which he was going to likely be exasperated over, and he knew that he was going to love every moment of it. 

“Yes Henry?” 

“Mom said you talked with your Grandpa Gold after she talked to you the first time.” From the tone of his voice, it was evident that he understood it hadn’t gone well. “I think he really wants to talk to you again. He’s been hanging around, and he could have gone back with Mom when she went to get Mr. Mendel from Gramps, but he didn’t.” 

He caught Henry’s gaze, leveled with him. “You think I should give him a chance? You might know better what he’s like these days than I do,”

Henry’s brow furrowed, and Neal resisted the impulse to reach out and smooth the hair back from his forehead, to gentle the harsh lines defiling his son’s beautiful skin. 

“He’s trying. Sometimes I think he just needs something to try for. Mom - my other Mom, Regina - she tries for me. And so does Mom. I guess, if he did all of this just to get back to you, even if he didn’t go about it the right way, that has to mean something right? That he loves you? Sometimes, Regina’s love isn’t the right kind, and maybe that’s what it’s like for you and Grandpa Gold, but I still care about her. It only hurts if it was real. That’s what Mom said Grandpa Gold told her and she seemed to believe him. And maybe that’s worth our trying too.” 

Miraculous. That was the word. Henry was miraculous. “You are wise beyond your years, Henry.”

Life was going to change more than it already had. Emma (the fact that she was around at all spoke immense volumes) looked at him with light in her eyes, wary like a wild animal, uncertain of whether or not his presence was to be trusted, but wanting, wanting to share what they’d once had, to trust again. His father wanted to make an effort, wanted to be near him, in whatever fashion, despite his raving, ludicrous offers in the hospital ( _ young again, Bae _ , he’d said, and it tasted like ash in Neal’s mouth). And Henry. His son. Something to live for. Something to try for. 

He could see it, bright and blazing, as he looked at his child. Emma’s chin, his own slightly upturned nose, and those eyes, soulful and wise, youthful and sparkling, hope against hope represented there. 

Anything was possible in those eyes. 

And it was worth trying for. It was. 

Miraculous. 


End file.
